


The Red House

by King_of_813_Cats



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Violence, Gen, My First AO3 Post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-21 04:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12449949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_of_813_Cats/pseuds/King_of_813_Cats
Summary: I dreamed a story about a red devil of a man and some fragile young boys. When I grew tired of it rattling around in my head, I decided to post it. This story may be revised frequently to make it closer to the truth.





	1. Birth or Rebirth?

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, on a normal street in a normal city, something was born.

I should have been a pair of ragged claws  
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.  
-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

 

Strange eyes open slowly, wincing at the sudden light where before there had been nothing. Cold, shaking palms press to a pale face, then pause and stretch out. Fingers flex and hands turn over and over as the thing sits on the curb. People step by on their daily path to daily destinations, unseeing of the creature in their midst. He pulls in a shaky breath, and sighs it out. Strange eyes peer around at the humans passing him. He breathes in again, but this time his breath steams in the cool air as if a fire has been ignited where before there was only cold and absence. Each breath seems to come out hotter until the people walking close to the curb start to notice the warmth. As he breathes, he thinks.

He knows not his origin, nor any of the events that led to his being on the street. He has a vague idea that he’s not human, but he doesn’t know what he is. He knows his power, and knows how to use it. He knows that the vague pulls he can feel leading him all over the world are important and that he needs to go; and finally, he knows his name.

Clarence. His name is Clarence. And with a swirl of red, he disappeared.


	2. Haunter or Haunted?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, in a normal town in a normal area, there was a big old house on a hill.

And seeing that it was a soft October night,  
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.  
-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

 

Many things had happened in the big house on the hill. There had been births, and sadly there had been deaths. Many years before, when the house was not quite as ancient, there had been a young family living in the house. Over time, the father had become more and more unstable until one August evening he took the shotgun mounted above the fireplace and shot his wife and teenage son to death before turning the barrel on himself. As the boy lay dying, he reached out with his mind and his heart; and the house which had previously been content with its lot in life was stirred to reach back. As they shared a few small infinities understanding each other, the boy’s father died, and the sudden influx of energy into the ether changed them both forever.

The boy became trapped in his state of almost-death and was bound to the house. The house, in turn, was considerably more sentient and movable and became bound to the boy. The house quickly became known as a haunted house, as the house explored its newfound ability to open and close doors and windows and the boy attempted to speak to the cleaners removing his and his parents’ bodies from the house. It was an open and close case; several people had heard the screams and shots and the police were there only minutes too late. The boy cried, alone except for a house about as intelligent and comforting as an especially distant cat. 

Then one day, someone arrived who saw both of them. Clarence arrived one April afternoon when the sky was blanketed by clouds promising a cleansing rain. First, he examined the house from afar, walking up the hill from where he had appeared on the street. As he approached, the boy stared openly at his odd appearance. He had hair and eyes the colors of flames but was wearing jeans and a soft-looking red sweater. What kind of person looked like that? Surely he had to be wearing contacts. The man paused in his walking and met his eyes. The boy startled, then relaxed. Of course, the man hadn't truly met his eyes but had just been looking into the window the boy was watching from. The boy sighed. He really needed to get less jumpy; after all, he was already mostly dead. Nothing could hurt him now. 

When the man arrived at the door, the boy was waiting. The house helpfully opened the door before the man's hand could even touch it, and the boy smirked. The man would surely be frightened and leave. However, this was not the case; the man merely smiled, offered a quiet "Thanks." and came inside. The boy was shocked. Who was this man with his hair and eyes like flames and his gentle demeanor? He had originally thought him to be one of the thrill seekers that periodically came to the house looking for ghosts, but those folks usually turned tail after a few moans and slamming doors. This man was unsurprised by the house's quirks. As the boy stood there, watching, the man turned in his direction and spoke. 

"Hello, do you live here? They told me this house was empty." The man asked kindly.

The boy stared at the man for a moment. “Me?” He said tentatively. 

The man tilted his head to the side. “Uh, yes. You're the only other person here, so far as I can tell.” He paused. “Is it because you're partly dead? Because that really doesn't bother me.”

The boy shook a little. Nobody had seen him in years, much less spoken to him. He thought he might cry at the simple joy of being acknowledged. The man looked concerned, no doubt because the boy looked considerably less stable than he had before, so the boy worked up the courage to respond. 

“I’m sorry, I haven't been seen in so long I'm afraid it was a bit of a shock to be addressed so abruptly. Who might you be?” The boy queried.  
“I am Clarence.” The man replied. “I was hoping to buy this house. But, of course, if you don’t want someone else to move in I can find another place. It’s your home, even if you are effectively a ghost.”

“No, no! I’d love to have someone move in.” The boy hurried to explain. “It’s just hard to find someone who isn’t scared by the house moving on her own. Really, it’s so lonely being here all by myself. Um, by the way, would you happen to know of a way for me to move on? I really want to see my mom again…”

“I’m sorry, but the only way to kill you now would be to burn this house to the ground, and I'm just not willing to murder you and the house like that. I could, however, help make you more corporeal; you could touch things again if you want. You would also be able to be seen and heard and go outside the house within a limited range.” Clarence offered. The boy gasped for air he didn’t need, hands clasped. 

“Really? That would be amazing! I haven’t felt the rain in so long… What would it take?” The boy asked eagerly. He hadn’t even considered that he could someday have even a pale imitation of life again.

Clarence smiled at his obvious excitement. “Nothing major, no blood or anything. It’ll take a bone from the person who birthed you, a bone from the person who killed you, some salt water and a bit of power that I can supply. Do you know where I can find the bones we’ll need?”

The boy’s face twisted with the pain of an old wound. “In the same place you can find my body, the cemetery down on Murphy road. My father’s the one who killed me, and my mom and I are buried right next to him, in the family plot.”

Clarence winced. “I’m so sorry you went through that, kid.” He paused, shook his head sadly, then continued. “What’s your name, so I can find the graves?

“Cyril. I'm Cyril Dyer.” The boy smiled gently, silently telling Clarence that it was ok. “Thank you for helping me, not everyone would. Is there anything I can do for you in return?”

Clarence smiled back, a sweet and closed-mouth thing that did nothing to hide the sadness still in his eyes. “ I don’t think so, though if you don’t mind I would still love to live here.” Cyril thought for a moment, considering. If someone else came once he was visible again, what would he do? Clarence moving in would solve most of his current problems. What could be the harm in it? 

“You can live here. Just make me visible again, please.”

Clarence grinned, exposing too-sharp teeth that Cyril had not noticed before. His flaming hair and eyes seemed much more sinister in light of this new feature. Cyril smiled hesitantly back, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. Clarence clapped once, sharply, and Cyril jumped a little. 

“All right, then!” Clarence exclaimed. “I’ll go get the materials for the spell, and be right back. Be safe, ok? The house opened the door behind him, and he laughed. “You too, house.”

As Clarence walked back down the hill, Cyril thought to himself about his mother’s bible stories from when he was young. He thought about flame-colored eyes and hair, and about grins with too-sharp teeth, He thought about sad eyes and a voice promising him a world he could touch.

With a swirl of red at the bottom of the hill, Clarence vanished.


	3. Numbers or Names?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some years later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, on a normal day in a normal year, a child was born.

For I have known them all already, known them all:  
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,  
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.  
-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

When the child was born, there was a significant commotion in the hospital. There had been a car crash, where the twins' mother had been hurt and there was the need for immediate surgery. Unknown to the family was the fact that this crash had been carefully orchestrated, and the 'vitamins' the mother had been taking throughout the pregnancy were not truly vitamins. The mother had been chosen as an unknowing test subject to an experiment trying to create children with special powers. And, now that the twins were ready to be born, she was no longer necessary. When she came out of surgery, she was kindly informed that the children had not survived, and as the grieving parents cried the babies were quietly spirited away to a facility where they would be raised.

Years later, all the other children in the facility had either died from side effects of the tests and experiments or been moved to other facilities. The last child, known only as Subject 6-B, had lost his twin some years back to an experiment testing their healing rate. He sat in his darkened room at night and cried, for he was all alone. He missed playing with the other children under the watchful gaze of the cameras and scientists. He had a faint idea that he was considered a successful experiment, but didn't know why. Sometimes they cut or burned or bruised him to see how long until he healed; sometimes they did the same to others to see how long until he healed them. They recorded everything. He was sad and hurt day after day until one day, something miraculous happened. 

Clarence first felt the pull of 6-B's misery one humid day in May. It took him almost a year to follow it, it being strangely muted by the medications 6-B was on, but when he did follow it and find out what was happening to 6-B, he was enraged. How dare anyone hurt children in this manner! He knew he could not allow the program's success to be known. If anyone realized what 6-B could do, it would only encourage more and worse experimentation. 

Clarence smiled a sharp-toothed smile. He was going to enjoy destroying all records of 6-B's existence. 

6-B heard nothing of the destruction of the facility staff, locked as he was in a soundproof room. He was unaware of the screams of the scientists and their blood turned against them and boiled in their veins. The white walls of the facility turned red under the emergency lights as Clarence made his way to the central office. He let a few low-level employees who knew little escape on the way to spread the word of the wrath that would meet them if they continued their cruelty. 

When all were dead, Clarence walked calmly to the darkened room where 6-B was kept. He wiped the blood from his face and slowly opened the door. 6-B looked up at him with wide eyes. Nobody ever came in while the room was still dark! Clarence smiled gently, and 6-B was a bit less worried. The scientists rarely smiled at him, so maybe this man wasn't a scientist. Though, if he wasn't a scientist, what could he be? 6-B's musings were interrupted by Clarence speaking. 

"It's ok, little one. There will be no more tests or experiments," Clarence said kindly. "I'm here to take you somewhere safe. Will you come with me?" He stretched out his hand to the boy.

6-B didn't know what was going on, but the safest thing to do was probably to cooperate. He reached out and took the offered hand. Clarence then, to 6-B's shock, tugged him forward and picked him up, holding him close to his chest. 

"Now, I'm going to walk us out of here. I want you to close your eyes until I tell you to open them, ok?" Clarence asked. "It's ugly out there and I don't want you to see it."

The child nodded. He didn't really understand why he had to close his eyes, but he'd do it rather than make the man angry. Somehow he got the feeling that the man wouldn't hurt him, but there was no need to take any chances.

Clarence smiled as the child closed his eyes. Now it was time to leave. Clarence rose and walked smoothly towards the exit, 6-B held gently in his arms. Clarence's shoes tapped on the bloody linoleum as he walked through the quiet halls, only the sound of blood dripping from the walls and ceilings disturbing the rhythm of his footsteps. As they passed through the final doorway, a drop of blood landed with a splat on 6-B's cheek. They stepped out into the open, Clarence fishing in his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the blood off of 6-B's face.

“You can open your eyes now, sweetheart. Look at your new world,” Clarence said. 6-B opened his eyes and looked out at the parking lot. The pavement was wet from the rain that had been falling, and the sky was still covered with clouds. Streetlights stretched up into the sky, and a raven sat cawing at the starlings that were flying far above. As they watched, the sun began to peek through the clouds and illuminate the dimmed world. 

It was more beautiful than 6-B had ever imagined.

Clarence began to speak. “I saw that they'd been calling you Subject 6-B in there, and I've gotta tell you, that's not gonna fly out in the real world. So, the way I see it, you need a good name.” He looked down at 6-B, who was listening intently. “Now, I could get you a baby book and you could pick your name yourself, or I could just name you right now. What'll it be, kiddo?” He smiled at 6-B as the boy got a look of intense concentration on his face. After a few moments of decision-making, 6-B had made his choice. He gently tapped Clarence on the chest. “You want me to name you?” A nod, quick and sharp. “Then… how about Lucas? It's a nice name, and it suits you.” More nodding, more vehemently this time. “Alright then, Lucas. I'm Clarence, and it's very nice to meet you. Are you ready to come home now?” Lucas peeked up at Clarence's eyes, looking down quickly and shaking his head a little. “Ok, we'll stay here for a while then.”

They stood in the parking lot for almost 20 minutes before, with a swirl of red, they disappeared.


End file.
